


Sit Here, Don't Speak, Let's Kiss

by tujuhbelas



Category: So Nyuh Shi Dae | Girls' Generation
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tujuhbelas/pseuds/tujuhbelas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And when I'm done kissing all the stars underneath your jagged edge of an exterior, I'll pretend I haven't and we'll start all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit Here, Don't Speak, Let's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Yuri/Tiffany shipping meme I filled in boredom. Fluff for start of long school holiday ayyy!

( **who cries during a friggin’ disney movie?** )

So, well, yeah, the movie is sad and all, and the homunculus in Yuri concludes that  _Ariel deserved it_ , but there’s another reason why she’s frowning real hard right now. And it’s not because the fucking redhead turned into a sea foam and her prince is off to marry another hot redhead, preferably a hundred percent human this time. Yuri stopped paying attention to the sea clams bra halfway into the movie anyway.

One of the oldest trick in romance is to take your lady out to either a horror crap or a tear-jerking telenovella - an easy way to get the lady to bawl on your chest, and while Yuri followed the latter option for her Friday Movie-a-thon Night, Tiffany is anything but the role-model of a ‘lady’.

Yuri tries to keep on a straight face anyway as Tiffany keeps on wiping her snot onto her shirt. Thank god she’s wearing the one Jessica gave her as 17th birthday present - the one with the word  _loser_ printed in obnoxiously bright red letters. “You’re a hot stuff ‘n all, but at this rate I’m filing a divorce letter.”

Tiffany snorts, the graceful noise muffled by Yuri’s now-dampened T-shirt.

Yuri sighs, slumping deeper into the couch as the credit continues to roll. No more soapy romance flicks, then.

 

( **who puts a goddamned fork in the microwave?** )

In a morning where Tiffany’s off in a trip with her co-workers, Yuri wakes up to a bed one size too large for one.

Grumbling, she pries herself away from the bed, dragging herself to the kitchen to distract her Early Morning Necking deprivation. Though her eyes are still hazy, she spots a yellow post-it stuck to the microwave. The writing is something she’s gotten familiar with over the past two years; large, rounded with even spacing between the words.  _You’re probably too sleepy to read this but don’t put the effing fork in the microwave kay? Wuv u babe <3 - fany fany tiffany_.

 

( **how often do they fight?** )

Tiffany is a feel-y person and Yuri is one insensitive wall made of pure bricks, and when shits begin to rain, it torrent its way down without an ounce of mercy. Especially to Yuri’s physical well-being.

She  _knows_ that kicking Yuri in the abdomen wouldn’t solve the problem, but she did it anyway. Because Yuri is an  _ass_ who stood her up and got drunk with another girl (or girls, Tiffany doesn’t really remember and  _care_ ) instead. Yuri reasoned something about  _outing with the office ladies_ , but one can’t really clog up a HellFany when it’s on a rampage.

So here she is, hugging her knees on her bed with tons of used tissues forming Himalayas on the feet of her bed. Cleaning up is the last in her list of priorities, with number one being  _checking up on whether she managed to bruise her fiancee or not_. Swallowing down her pride, she makes her way outside their shared bedroom and peeks into the living room. Yuri is sprawled eagle on the floor.

Tiffany wants to say, “don’t lie on the floor, you’ll catch cold”, but instead, “I see that the concept of couch is too hard for your peanut-sized brains to understand.” In the meanest arms-crossed pose she could muster.

Yuri squints at her and rolls away so that her back is facing Tiffany now. “Shut up and leave me alone. I’m hurt and _sad_.”

“Jerkass.” Tiffany plops on the couch. Stepping on Yuri not-so-accidentally on the way.

“Jerkass’ hot wife.” Yuri makes barf-inducing sobbing noises.

“This is already the third time we fight in a week.”

“Over really stupid things.”

“A.k.a, you.”

Yuri rolls over, now quirking a brow at Tiffany. “You calling me stupid?”

“Why, of course, genius.” And in hushed voice she believes low enough in volume for Yuri to pick up, “If only you could stop snagging every living thing with a healthy and functioning set of vajayjay.”

Scoffing, Yuri props herself with an elbow. There’s finality in her tone. “Well, screw you. Why don’t we just skip to the part where we make out and forget everything that’s ever happened.”

“ _Screw you._ But hey. Sure.”

 

( **what do they do when they are away from each other?** )

FaceBook farming games bored her to death - like, who would want to play a game where you have to wait for a goddamned day for your strawberries to grow? If they’re aiming for realism, what kind of plants  _wither away_ if they aren’t picked up in an hour?

So when Yuri  _resorts_ to FarmVille, that means either Tiffany is out, or she’s aiming to overthrow Empress Sunny’s mumbo-jumbo veggies empire. In this case, it’s both. As much as she wants to call Tiffany just for a quick chat (or if she’s lucky and Tiffany is feeling equally hormonal, phone sex) she doesn’t want to disturb her wife.  _Business trip my arse_. Tiffany  _will_ come home with eye bags and half-heartedly folded dirty laundries.

A loud ringing from her phone wrestles Yuri out of her attempt at immersing into the life of a farmer with an oversized head. She picks up on second ring.

“Eyo, Fany?”

“ _Yuri-ah..._ ”

“Mmm, what’s up? Hold on for a sec,” Yuri fiddles with her phone, switching it into loudspeaker and drops it as gently as she could on the table. Couldn’t risk her pumpkins. She’s, like, forty minutes away from the supposed harvest time.

Seems like she has half-thrown her phone on the table after all. “ _W, wait Yuri? What happened? What’s with the_ bang _??”_

Yuri minimizes the clicking noise of her mouse just in case. “Um, nothing. ‘m cooking.”

“ _Okay... umm, Yuri-ah, I reaaally miss you. God. You know what, just now my prick of a boss said--_ ”

The white picket fence is on discount. Should not have fenced the piggies yesterday.

“ -  _and don’t get me started on his loud voice. ESPECIALLY when he called me_ dumbo.  _I’m not even blonde! Someone hook him up on a date with Jessi. That’s real authentic dumb blonde for him. And then -_ “

_Clicky click_. Maybe she should upgrade her barn’s capacity? Time to one-up Sunny in something else besides fucking time per week.

“ _\- and sometimes I wonder what did I do in my past life to deserve this and... Yul? Are you listening_?”

 

( **who is more likely to pay for dinner?** )

If there’s one aspect of Yuri Tiffany is thankful of but at the same time resents with burning hatred, it’s her swift bill-paying skill before Tiffany could even reach for her purse. As if Yuri prepared the cash beforehand.

Starting the engine, Tiffany decides to ask without looking at the girl in the passenger seat. “Why do you have to pay everytime we went to eat?”

From the rear view mirror, Tiffany watches Yuri watching the unfurling clouds outside. “No reason.”

“You only pay when you eat with me.”

There’s a sigh. “C’mon, Fany. You’re, like. My other half. The one I want to spend the rest of my lifetime with.” Tiffany scrunches her nose at the cheesiness. Yuri grins (she imagines), and pats her inner thigh. “Call me stupid, shallow, whatever. But I want to look good in your eyes.”

“You look good, you do. The v-neck and three-fourth slacks combo kills.”

Tiffany catches Yuri eyeing her as if she’s killed a cat.

“Okay, okay, gee. It’s just that - I feel bad. For making you pay for our meals... at least let me pay my own.”

“Aw, you can always repay me back home,” there’s a pause, like Yuri’s aiming for some tension, “in bed.”

A snicker (Yuri) and a slap (Tiffany) later, they finally reach a redlight, which means Tiffany could pour all hundred percent of her attention to Yuri right now. Who’s rubbing her forearm with a nauseating pout.

“Stop it you big baby. You’re really bad at pouting.”

Yuri pouts even harder in mockery. “There’s only one way to free me from the poutey curse, woman.”

“And that is.”

Still in that pout that sends chills down Tiffany, Yuri taps her lips twice with an index finger. Tiffany leans in, “I’m doing this because I absolutely abhor your so-called ‘pouting’.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

 

( **who remembers anniversaries?** )

“Yuri-ah,” Yuri hears her loud and clear once she’s finally gotten rid of her sleepiness - Tiffany, still naked from their earlier... nightly... humpings covered only by their shared blanket.

“Umm. What is it?”

“Do you remember what day is today?”

Taking notes of what day is every day is one of the many things Yuri just can’t do. She gazes to the corner of her eyes, looking like as if she’s remembering something when she remembered nothing. Tiffany hates forgetful people and it’s best not to get in the woman’s long list of blacklists.

“Uhh, Wednesday?”

“It’s Friday.”

Trying to fend off Tiffany’s glare with a nervous laugh, she comes up with an apology. “Sorry for thinking that dates doesn’t matter because they really are?”

Tiffany rolls over so that her back is facing Yuri now, which means she’s officially pissed off and Yuri is officially screwed. Why is she so pissy these days, Yuri wonders. Maybe it’s about time to move out from South Korea - Tiffany’s starting to act like Jessica, who’s THE queen of pissy women.

It’s a wonder how Taeyeon still loves her all the same - Yuri concludes that it’s all Love to blame.

And it’s out of Love too Yuri finds herself wrapping her arm around the pissy time-bomb Tiffany. “Fany-ah, please don’t get mad. It’s not my fault Wednesday and Friday feels the very same.”

When Yuri peeks in, Tiffany looks like she’s suppressing her laugh. “I’m not mad about the Wednesday thing, you idiot.” Rolling so that she’s facing Yuri once more, Tiffany’s close enough that they can feel each other’s tickling breaths. A pout makes its way to Tiffany’s Ultra Fair complexion. “I’m asking you for real now, Yuri-ah. What day is today?”

Time to have a trip down the memory lane. What day is it today, again... for Tiffany to even ask about it...

“Ah.”

“Finally clicked, huh?”

“Err, yup.”

“About time. I was about to confine you to the couch tonight.”

Yuri sighs in relief. It’s been a long time since she spent a couple of nights on the couch courtesy of angering Tiffany. Sporting a confident grin, Yuri gives her the answer she’s been waiting for. “

“Today is when Fast and Furious 7 hits the theater! You want to watch it that much, huh? ....Uh, Fany-ah?”

 

( **who is more protective?** )

Tiffany’s hot and all and Yuri understands the sentiments, but it’s really hard to brush off those looks guys shower Tiffany with when they’re outside. Yuri hates losing, and if there’s one more thing Yuri hates beside Yoona’s loud drunken laugh, it’s having to share something she holds a little bit too dear.

Even if it’s her blood bro. Because love is blind even to your family member, yo.

Yuri regrets pulling Tiffany along for family dinner. And since she has been mentally boring holes on Hyukjoon’s head with her glare for ten minutes (that felt like an eternity for the victim), Hyukjoon decides to fight for his life. “I don’t have the hots for yer woman.”

“You  _stare_.”

“Well, she’s pretty.”

Yuri kicks him, under the table. Thank god Tiffany’s too preoccupied with their mother to notice. “You’re undressing her with your  _eyes_.”

“Well, yeah, she  _is_ pretty...”

“No. No, don’t go there.”

“Seriously, man. Bet my bucks she slays in boyfriend shirts.”

He grits his teeth hard when he feels Yuri’s heel digging onto his fibula. “I’m calling the cops,”

“I didn’t even do anything you sicko. Ack, stop it you - mom!”

Their mother stops dead on her track, leaving the question she was about to throw at Tiffany at, “so when can I expect a ba...” which lacks the “by”, and Yuri is, honestly,  _very_ grateful. “What is it, Hyukjoon.”

Cowering under the intensity of her mother’s carnivorous glare, Hyukjoon gives an accusing finger at the equally goosebump’d Yuri. “She violated whatever left of my mental privacy!”

“He...” Yuri trails off. What,  _ogled at my fiancee_?  _Undressed Tiffany with those molesting eyes_? She has to play it cool in front of her lady. Tiffany’s the kind who won’t live it down until at least... two weeks later. Not to mention the risk of her tattling to Taeyeon and Jessica. Or even Sunny. Or even  _Hyoyeon,_ and it’ll go worldwide. “He... he is an ass.”

“Yuri, language!” Her mother quips at her in a volume that might put Sooyoung to shame. Where is her 3D, straight man white-collar worker father she desperately needs so much right now. “We have a guest!”

“I’ll marry her in less than a month, mom.” In a voice more hushed than the one before, “I’ve cursed more than that in front of her anyway. Heh.”

“Yuri-ah...” Tiffany flashes her eye signals, trying to shut Yuri’s ever-growing smirk. That didn’t work.

“Remember the time I stubbed my toe on the bench? When we went to jog after you complained about gaining weight.”

“O-oh,” It seems that Tiffany had something different in mind - Yuri cackles inwardly. “I thought you were talking about - you know - uh - I,” the word  _MALFUNCTION ERROR 404_ is clear across her face.

Yuri sets down her chopsticks and widen her grin. “What are  _you_ even thinking, Fany-ah?”

A loud scraping sound can be heard, chair against wooden tiles, as Hyukjoon’s about to stand up, nose wrinkled and frown etched deep. “I’m skipping dinner. The skeeviness is getting to my digestive system.”

“Hyukkie - “

“Fany, couch or the dining table tonight?”

“Oh my god,” Hyukjoon quickly leaps out of his seat, lapping his hands on his tight jeans. “I’M OUT OF HERE.”

Tiffany is covering her mouth with her hand now. Yuri isn’t sure whether her fiancee’s laughing or she’s swallowing back a train of curses.

“Hyukkie sit back down! This is a family dinner!”

“Eh, then again we just did it on the table last week so I guess it’s the couch tonight?”

Hyukjoon shouts something incoherent and claws on his face, crab-walking his way to the living room, his trek avoiding the red couch on the center of the room. “I’m not risking myself a face chlamydia!”

Yuri laughs, her loudest in the entire week, while her mother blanches at the scene before her. His brother is probably inside the car, washing his hand with whatever antiseptic thing their father made them carry around. Tiffany has her mouth wide open. Sure, she’ll get in trouble later, but at least the dinner is  _fun_.

Yuri sleeps on the couch that night.

 

( **who is the bigger cuddler**?)

While Yulti is more in the ‘sexy’ end of spectrum courtesy of Yuri’s raging hormones, cuddling is one of their favorite pastime. Not enough to rival TaengSic’s level of lazy Sunday cuddles (Jessica is  _such a cat_ ) but they have their fair share. Especially when Yuri is a very physical kind of person. Something about being authentic - to remind her that Tiffany isn’t an ethereal dream. Yada yada yada, cheesiness. Tiffany shut her up with a kiss when Yuri stumbled on the middle of her cheesy love speech. Yuri isn’t that good with words and the girl should just stick to her bear-wolf hybrid cuddles.

Tucking her head on the slant between Yuri’s neck and firm shoulder, Tiffany relaxes; finally, after one long day of endless paperwork. Yuri’s hand stays at her waist, Yuri’s lips kissing the top of her head, Yuri’s hair tickling her all over. Yuri against her. Tiffany sighs in content.

“You’ve been sighing a lot lately.” Yuri points out for her, a chuckle follows behind as her hand drags lower to Tiffany’s thigh.

“It’s a happy kind of sigh.”

“Now that you mention it, we haven’t been fighting.”

Tiffany digs her head further into Yuri. She pouts, even though she’s there in Yuri’s blind spot. “You’ve used up your asshole quota last weekend.”

“The family dinner?”

“And soooo much more. Remember when you stood me up for an hour with a dead phone and a nearly ruined mascara?”

“Oh. That.” Yuri’s shoulder shakes as she laughs nervously. Tiffany slaps her on the arm. “Sorry. For the fiftieth time.”

“Hm.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

Idly circling her finger on the couch’s contour, Tiffany nods. “Sure.”

“Can you un-friend Sica or something?” A playful slap to the arm and Yuri yelps for the second time. “That’s what I’m talking about! Violent American Women.”

Tiffany swings her leg perpendicular to Yuri’s, effectively enveloping and trapping the taller girl. “Said Kwon Yuri, who cuffed me to the bed last week. Pray tell, what have you been watching with Yoona?”

Yuri looks up to Tiffany, eyes avoiding Tiffany’s. “Secretary flicks. The one with lots of actions.”

“Ooooh.”

“This is my attempt at saving you from the details, aight? Seobaby walked in on us and she ended up retching all night. Dicks scared her.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Now, where were we...”

“You said you wanted to cuddle. At this rate we’re going to spread more chlamydia bacteria on the couch.”

Straddling Yuri, she aims for her place once more - the slant between Yuri’s long neck and firm shoulder, mumbling  _I love you_ s, trailing kisses up her jaw. Yuri sighs, in content.

“Anything to keep ‘Hyukkie’ away, I guess.”

 

( **who tells the other they love them more often**?)

Yuri’s  _I love you_ s are the physical and the blazing touches kind, and Tiffany understands - the woman’s not that good with words. One time Tiffany called her out on this, Yuri spent the night memorizing cringeworthy romance quotes from a teeny-weeny twitter account. Tiffany secretly recorded them for blackmail materials.

Tiffany’s  _I love you_ s are the verbal, straight-out honest kind. Tiffany is outspoken, verbal-direct, rather big-mouthed at times, and while she’s smoking on the bed, more often she would rather have Yuri’s arms securing her from the world, her head leaning back to Yuri. She’ll speak her mind, lacing a lot of  _I love you_ s to make up with Yuri’s non-verbal ones, with Yuri’s breaths serving as their background music.

“So, between us, who tells the other they love them more often?” Tiffany says, lowering her head to land on Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri puts her phone down, and Tiffany silently appreciates the gesture.

“Verbally, you, ‘course. I dunno? I mean - we have our own ways. Does your Love Love Slap counts as an  _I love you_ too?”

“No. I’ll win the trophy otherwise.”

Yuri takes her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I... I like you.”

“Uh-huh. You like hamburgers too. And pizzas. And sex. Try again later.”

“You’re not making this any easier for me...”

“Why the hate against the L word?”

“Not hate,” Yuri hurriedly clarifies, “the L word scares me. I feel like I haven’t done enough for you to deserve the privilege of using the mystical L-word."

Tiffany looks up to Yuri, who’s staring ahead, past their TV, past their living room - somewhere unknown.

“I - when it comes to you, I’m not as confident. I don’t think I’ve done enough. I feel...”

“Incompetent?”

“Yeah. That.”

Silence. Tiffany tightens her hold of Yuri’s hand. “Fine. Just sit here. You don’t have to if you don’t think you  _can_.”

“Fany...”

“I’ll do it for you. No matter how many  _I love you_ s. I’ll say it for you - for us, until we hit the one thousand and nine hundred and something. Until we lost count.”

Yuri stays silent, and Tiffany chooses to not see what kind of face Yuri is making right now. So she continues, “You are worth that much, Yuri-ah.”

“I love you.” Tiffany looks up, to Yuri, who’s still staring at Far Far Away. Gazes onto the lips that tremble with excitement, finality, everything. Feels the universe explode in the tiny spaces between their fingers. “I love you, I love you, Tiffany. Tiffany Hwang. Goddamnit.”

“Took you long enough.”

Yuri rumbles with a laugh, hunching over while she lets it all out. Their fingers still intertwined. “I’m filled with words that I’d rather not say ‘cause they all don’t make much sense. So how about we shut up and kiss?”

Tiffany leans in, closer and closer until their lips meet in a not-crash. Hard enough to leave them breathless but not hard enough to pull them apart for breath. Silly, oxygen is for wussies. Through the kiss, Tiffany discovers another universe inside Yuri - the one with more stars, more unraveled possibilities. And she’s amazed at how Yuri takes her to each and every different worlds inside her by each unspoken  _I love you_ s in the kiss, wrapped by each breath.

When they pull apart, they laugh some more. The night is still young and they still have plenty of time to reach the one thousand and nine hundred and something count.

“I think we have to take this to the bed. At this rate.”

“Sure.”


End file.
